


Reunion

by Waistcoat35



Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Affection, And bless you, Are there satanists in the Downton Abbey fandom?, For anybody who reads my stuff knowing that this is how I am: thank you, Gift Giving, Gift Remembering-Because-It's-Already-Been-Given, I am so sorry that that is a tag I've written at some point in my life, It takes all sorts I suppose, Kissing, M/M, Me: you slick idiot. you FLIRT. you adorable stupid bastard., Rated T for snogging I guess, Reunions, Richard Is Whipped, Richard: -does something smooth-, They're stupid but at least they're stupid for each other, Thomas Is Whipped, Unless you're a satanist in which case idk if you want blessing, anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:20:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waistcoat35/pseuds/Waistcoat35
Summary: 2. “It reminded me of you.”
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Series: they slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772770
Comments: 7
Kudos: 93





	Reunion

Richard's barely been there five minutes before he's making excuses to discuss something with 'Mr Barrow' in the butler's pantry. He's nowhere near being there for six before he's being backed into the pantry door with Thomas' arms looped around his shoulders, with the ever-so-slightly shorter man alternating between kissing the life out of him and pressing their foreheads together near-frantically as he pauses to take breaths that Richard has just let out. The pressure of their faces pressed together is desperate and forceful enough that it almost hurts a little bit, but not as much as being any further apart would. 

The next time Thomas pauses, Richard takes the opportunity to raise his arms - which have been dangling rather uselessly at his sides ever since he was pushed against the door and rather enthusiastically kissed- and thread one hand through the hair at the nape of Thomas' neck. The other he curls around Thomas' side, warm and steady, just above his hipbone, giving a reassuring squeeze. Thomas' eyes have taken on that dazed, trance-like look as he regains his breath again, and they express clearly the rapture that Richard feels just as keenly. 

He eases his head backwards a bit more so that he can tilt his face forwards and look at Thomas properly, although this means that Thomas will gain a better view of him looking like a starstruck fool. He smiles warmly, the grin stretching contentedly across his face like a cat on a warm patio, the upticks at the corners of his mouth not unlike the flick of a tail. _Thomas_ , he thinks, _my Thomas_ , and the only reason he doesn't say it aloud, doesn't whisper it to the world, is that it would break the spell they're in, this thing they're sharing with only their eyes that feels bigger than the both of them and yet makes them feel as if there is nothing else _other_ than the both of them.

Thomas is the one to do it, as he blinks rapidly as if trying to shake some sense back into himself, a tiny corner of a grin nestling there. He looks down a little bit as he does, and when he looks up again and locks gazes with Richard his face colours up instantly, mouth moving into a smile that looks more embarrassed than before, more self-conscious. 

"Ah - sorry," he says softly, eyes darting to the side and back up again and pinballing every which way as he continues, "you're barely even fresh off the train and already I'm all over you. Was expecting I'd be able to show a bit more restraint." Richard's not quite sure what to do about the flickering, delicate _something_ between them, which is not unlike a young deer - whatever he chooses has an almost-equal chance of either scaring it off or drawing it closer. 

"I can't say I was expecting you would, myself," he says, and grins, but he's not sure he's got it quite right, with the way Thomas' eyes flick to the floor again, definitely embarrassed, and not in the charming, bashful way. Oh, he realises, and this time it's him who's been silly. "I can't say I wanted you to, either," he adds gently, removing the hand from Thomas' hair to tilt his chin up with one knuckle, gently enough that he can more than easily pull away if he wants to, "because if you did then it'd be rather lonely for me, being the only one desperate to be as close to you as possible, as soon as possible. I like it when you show your cuddly side." Thomas huffs softly, as if disbelieving, and Richard raises his eyebrows. "I _do_." 

(Meanwhile, privately, Richard is somewhat amused that Thomas is classifying kissing as a blatant lack of restraint. They've gotten rather closer than that throughout the course of several years worth of correspondence, after all. But he's just learned that humour didn't work for this particular concern of Thomas', and so he keeps this to himself.) 

In the end, he simply shakes his head fondly and pulls Thomas back in, hand cupping his chin and thumb soothing the corner of his jawbone, for a sweet press of lips, only a few seconds this time on account of the fact he can't stop smiling against Thomas' mouth - or maybe it's the other way round, or maybe it's both - before returning the hand to Thomas' hair and wrapping the other arm around his back to pull him into a proper hug. He hopes that his chin isn't too uncomfortable, what with the way it is pressing into the dip just above the bridge of Thomas' nose (and somehow even the sticking-out, awkward, jabbing parts of their faces seem to fit together like puzzle pieces, smudge together like they're laid out in oil pastel by a loving hand) but from the way Thomas is smiling broadly into his neck it doesn't seem to much matter either way. 

They stay like that for a while, his hand cradling the back of Thomas' head neatly, thumb tracing swirling divots underneath Thomas' ear, hand shifting soothingly on his back, Thomas clinging ever-tighter like a rather endearing limpet. Then, there's a clink of metal, and they stop awkwardly - it would seem that Thomas' watch chain has gotten caught on one of Richard's buttons. Not wanting to let go more than he must, Richard leans backs minimally and carefully ensnares it. As he does, though, he catches a bright flash of metal under the pantry lights, a familiar crescent moon. Another smile, this time, one he hasn't even had to try for. 

"Still hanging onto that old thing, then," he remarks, not sure even himself if it's a question, trying to sound more nonchalant than he feels. Thomas catches onto what he means, and nods.

"Of course I have. Impossible for me not to. And it's helped me a lot, these last months." Even as he pulls Thomas in again so he can bury his face against Richard's neck, his starched collar, he has an inkling of the answer. 

“It reminded me of you.” The warm flutter of lips as Thomas speaks, muffled, into his neck is a foreign sensation, and he adores it wholeheartedly, squeezes the arm around him tighter. Now, he thinks, is the right time.

"Not like you need much reminding, is it. I'd say I'm memorable enough." A snort of breath against his neck.

"Cheek."


End file.
